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Chapter Two
Acacia
I couldn’t help myself. I went home and read half of the book like it was my new lifeline. And maybe it is desperation that leads me to follow its advice, but there is no turning around now.
Tugging at my short skirt, I slowly sit on my desk chair. When I chose this outfit, the fact that I would mostly be sitting had escaped my mind. I had gotten up early, curling my hair and applying more makeup than usual. I found a khaki pencil skirt that I could barely pull up over my ass and a size too small dark blue blouse, and left open a few extra buttons. My push-up bra is working double time to give me any resemblance to cleavage.
“Woah. I think you went past inner wanton and straight to make me your mistress,” Malissa says, leaning on the desk.
I look up at her with wide eyes. “Does it look bad?”
She shakes her head. “Uhm. No. You look like a wet dream.”
“Oh okay, that’s good. The book said to release your inner wanton is to embrace one’s sexuality. I picked out my sexiest clothes.”
Malissa’s eyebrows scrunch. “I don’t think—”
The door to the upstairs offices opens, banging into the stairwell and stopping Malissa mid-sentence. I stand on shaky legs, pulling on the skirt again, but she smacks my hand away.
Callum walks out. Today he’s in a loose sleeveless tank and gray sweatpants. I clench my thighs. The sweats hide more of his movement in the downstairs department, but it’s still hot. He nods at us as he makes his way to his usual corner before stilling and turning back to us.
His widened gaze trails down my body, and my nipples harden at the intense stare. I try not to fidget as he blinks and walks back to the desk.
“See you later, girlie,” Malissa whispers before hurrying away. I want to cry out for her to stay; I’m not ready to trial this new side of me alone.
Callum’s eyebrows rise slightly as he gets closer, and I swallow.
“Good morning…” I squeak out, insecurity about my outfit making it hard to force the words out.
He blinks, his mouth slanting open before he clears his throat. “Morning, Acacia. Are you… you look different.”
I brush down my shirt, straightening it along my stomach. “Just trying something new. Do you like it?”
Uncertain about his response, I bite down on my lip and try to flutter my eyes seductively. The book said this move can be a powerful one. I hadn’t realized that my mascara didn’t completely dry because of how many coats I slathered on. My lashes stick to each other before pulling apart slowly. Instead of a quick flutter, it looks like I’m giving him a wonky, lizard-like blink with both eyes.
I try to wipe away the flakes of black goo that have fallen onto my cheek and scratch my eye with my newly pressed-on manicure.
“Shit,” I hiss out in pain, cupping my entire socket now as tears gather in the throbbing orb.
“You okay?” Callum asks, moving to step around the desk.
I throw up my hand to stop him and knock over the cup of pens next to me. Flustered and embarrassed, I bend to pick them up, immediately forgetting about the tight skirt I donned today. The loud rip of fabric and sudden breeze up my crack has me yelping and standing up quickly. The skirt was so tight I went without panties to avoid lines. I drop my hands to my exposed butt cheeks, which results in my shoulders being thrust back in a quick jerk and the rest of the buttons on my blouse snapping open.
“Holy shit,” Callum says on a breath. I can feel his gaze burning into the plain nude bra I have underneath.
Nervous laughter bubbles out of my throat, and I know my face is as red as a stop light. “I meant to ask you to dinner before showing you my lady bits.”
His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and then he shakes his head. “Let’s get to my office. I have some extra joggers from last year that should fit you.”
He keeps his gaze turned as he walks past me to the stairwell, his head tilted down as he walks up to the door. We make our way quietly, humiliation still burning in my cheeks.
Callum opens his office door, leaving it wide as he immediately moves to the small closet on the side. I try to pull my blouse closed around my front as I wait, leaving my bare rump facing away from him. He hands me a pair of small sweatpants and a t-shirt.
I take them sheepishly. “Second day in a row changing on the premises. I promise it won’t become a habit.”
Callum crosses his arms, the muscles along his forearms flexing as he tucks his hands into his elbows. “You had to change yesterday? Another wardrobe malfunction?”
I chuckle. “No, I got all wet.”
